“‘Paris, Dec. 5, 1865.
“‘M. Thomas Elgin. _Dear Sir_,--It is to you alone, the most honorable
among men, that I can make the terrible confession that I have committed
a crime.
“‘I am wretched. Employed by you in your speculations, I have given way
to temptation, and have speculated on my own account. One loss brought
about another, I lost my head; I hoped to recover my money; and now, at
this hour, I owe more than ten thousand dollars, which I have taken from
the safe of the society.
“‘Will you have pity on me? Will you be so generous as to lend me that
sum? I may not be able to return it in less than six or seven years; but
I will repay you, I swear it, with interest.
“‘I await your answer, like a criminal, who waits for the verdict. It
is a matter of life and death with me; and as you decide, so I may be
saved, or disgraced forever. A. Malgat.’”
On the margin, methodical M. Elgin had written in his angular
handwriting,--
“Answered immediately. Sent to M. M. ten thousand dollars, to be drawn
from funds deposited with the Mutual Discount Society. No interest to be
paid.”
“And that,” stammered Daniel, “that is the man”--
“Whom they charge me with having turned aside from the paths of honesty;
yes, sir! Now you learn to know him. But wait. You see, he was saved. It
was not long before he appeared here, his false face bathed in tears.
I can find no words to convey to you the exaggerated expressions of his
gratitude. He refused to shake hands with M. Elgin, he said, because
he was no longer worthy of such honor. He spoke of nothing but of his
devotion unto death. It is true M. Elgin carried his generosity to an
extreme. He, a model of honesty, who would have starved to death rather
than touch the gold intrusted to his care,--he consoled Malgat, finding
all kinds of apology for him, telling him, that, after all, he was not
so very much to blame, that there were temptations too strong to be
resisted, and repeating even those paradoxical principles which have
been specially invented as an apology for thieves. Malgat had still
some money of his own; but M. Elgin did not ask him for it, for fear of
hurting his feelings. He continued to invite him, and urged him to come
and dine with us as heretofore.”
She stopped, laughing in a nervous manner, which was painful to hear,
and then continued, in a hoarse voice,--
“Do you know, M. Champcey, how Malgat repaid all this kindness? Read
this note; it will restore me in your esteem, I trust.”